


Keys to the Kingdom

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [22]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, M/M, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate: Atlantis, John Sheppard (+/Rodney McKay), <i>I'm headed straight for the castle / They've got the kingdom locked up / And there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut</i> -"Castle", Halsey"</p><p>Tag to The Tower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kingdom Locked Up

John looked terrible. He looked exhausted. Given how much had changed on the planet since the last time Rodney saw it, he wasn’t surprised. The people had taken their new knowledge of Ancient technology and run with it, making improvements all over the place, digging out the palace and making their new city almost as shiny as Atlantis herself. John must have been at the forefront of it all, using the control chair to get things up and running.  
  
And that must have taken so much power. The locals had found a new ZPM. Atlantis needed ZPMs. While the peasants were rejoicing over the fall of the ruling class, had started a revolution and were trying on their masters’ clothes, the rest of the galaxy had been battling the Wraith, and the war was taking its toll. Atlantis needed help.  
  
The guard escorted Rodney, Lorne, Teyla, and Ronon into the throne room. John looked stiff and uncomfortable in his finery. His skin was pale, his eyes were ringed with bruise-shadows, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. But he smiled the ghost of his old smile, and he said,   
  
“Welcome to my kingdom.”  
  
It didn’t take a social scientist to know that none of this belonged to John and all of it belonged to the woman standing to his right, clutching his wrist with a white-knuckled grip, and the dark-haired, hazel-eyed girl at her side.  
  
Damn her. John had offered to save her, and in return she’d enslaved him.  
  
“We hear you have access to ZPMs or possibly know how to recharge them,” Rodney said. “We’re requesting either an arrangement to charge our depleted ZPMs or access to the technology so we can recharge our own back on Atlantis.”  
  
“Out of the question,” the woman - Mara - said.  
  
Rodney raised his eyebrows. “I thought John was your king. Doesn’t that mean he gets to make the decisions?”  
  
John cast him a quelling look, one Rodney had seen so many times before. He missed it. He missed John.   
  
“What do you have to offer us that we do not already have ourselves?” Mara asked.  
  
“You don’t have a way to synthesize the ATA gene further, do you?” Lorne raised his chin. “You had what few vials Dr. Beckett distributed -”  
  
“We have John, and he is enough.” Mara met his gaze, challenge in her eyes.  
  
Rodney scanned the room, and was it just his imagination, or did a majority of the little kids have familiar hazel eyes and messy dark hair? His stomach churned. John, what have they done to you?  
  
Blue light flared behind John, and he sat up straighter. “I’ll handle this,” he said.  
  
Mara turned to him, concern marring her brow. “You’re not strong enough -”  
  
John pushed himself to his feet, and the Chair stayed glowing. That was new. “You forget,” he said, “I was once a soldier. I’m stronger than you think.” He strode toward Rodney, intent in his eyes. “Here's the thing. We're safe here. The Wraith don't even remember us. If we help you, they'll find out. They always do. I'm not about to put my people in danger, McKay.”  
  
“Your people?” Teyla echoed.   
  
Mara stroked a hand over her daughter’s hair, radiating smug triumph.   
  
“We are the last line of defense between the Wraith and this entire galaxy,” McKay snapped. “And not just this galaxy, but also your own, or have you forgotten about Earth?”  
  
“Shut your pretty mouth,” John said, and Lorne raised his eyebrows, surprised.   
  
Rodney closed his mouth with a snap, shocked at that dismissiveness. Behind John, the Chair flared, a blue-white starburst, and Rodney had to close his eyes and turn away. But he felt the PDA at his hip buzz.   
  
When the flare faded, John caught his gaze. Held it. “You know the rules, McKay. He who falls behind is left behind.”  
  
That wasn't the rule. That had never been the rule. Not for the military or Atlantis and certainly not John and his team.   
  
But Lorne said, “Yes, sir. Let's go, Doc.” He caught Rodney by the shoulder and dragged him toward the door.   
  
“What the hell was that?” Ronon demanded once they were back at the jumper.   
  
Rodney fished his PDA out of the pack on his hip and fired it up, and there. Formulas. Schematics. Everything they needed to fix the ZPM charging station in Atlantis. “That was John saving our asses.”

“How?” Teyla asked.   
  
“He had Atlantis download the information onto my PDA,” Rodney said. “Let's go end the Wraith. And then we’re coming back for him.” He glanced at Lorne. “How did you know?”  
  
Lorne said, “I know about Colonel Sheppard’s record. One thing he'd never do is leave someone behind or ask anyone to do the same. Let's get this back to Atlantis.”  
  
“And?” Ronon asked.   
  
“And round up a platoon of marines and storm the castle,” Lorne said.   
  
“Are those people not our allies?” Teyla asked.   
  
Rodney thought of the shadows in John’s eyes and said, “Not anymore.”


	2. Kingdom Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse, Any Team, When someone injures/kidnaps/temporarily kills one team member, the rest show no mercy in making them pay. (wrath)"
> 
> Mara POV

Mara should have known something was wrong when John stood up from the Chair and it kept glowing. It required the touch of someone with the Gene to keep it going. Pulling an operator away from it made it die.  
  
But then Mara had always known, somewhere deep down, that there was more to the Ancestors' city than John Sheppard let on, that there was more that he could do than he'd ever said. But he'd lain with her and all the other noble and worthy women willingly enough, given them children who were bearers of the Gift, and Mara's people would forever be free from the Wraith.  
  
Mara should have known they wouldn't be free from Atlantis.   
  
There were guards waiting when the Ring of the Ancestors came to life and the Lanteans stepped through. Mara remembered Dr. McKay, who was a scientist and not a healer and had almost crippled the city to save the planet from Otho's machinations. Teyla Emmagan was an Athosian, a noble warrioress, and dangerous behind her gentle smile. Ronon Dex was Satedan, a fierce warrior, and rumor had it he'd once been a Runner and escaped the Wraith's clutches permanently.  
  
Lieutenant Colonel Evan Lorne was an unknown quantity. Mara knew he had The Gift, that he had stepped up as the military commander of Atlantis in John Sheppard's absence. The first time she'd seen him - short, blue-eyed, handsome in an ordinary, boring sort of way - she hadn't thought much of him. He'd given in to John's silver-tongued persuasions so easily and let his team walk away empty-handed, without their precious technology, and without their precious John Sheppard. If this Lorne had the Gift, perhaps it would be useful to keep him as well, vary the gene pool a little bit. He did have nice blue eyes.  
  
So when he came for his audience in front of Mara and John, Mara was prepared to be pleasant. To bargain.   
  
"We would like our comrade back, please," Lorne said. "You got what you needed from him." His expression darkened for a second. "But we need him back."  
  
Mara raised her eyebrows. "What do you offer in exchange?"  
  
"Our mercy and goodwill," Lorne said.  
  
Mara said, "What about a trade? You for your comrade."  
  
"Unacceptable," Lorne said. "Give him to us, or we will take him."  
  
Mara sneered. "Oh will you? How?"  
  
Lorne tapped the radio at his ear and said, "Teldy, Vega, now."  
  
Explosions rocked the ground outside.  
  
"What? How did you -?"  
  
"You're surrounded," Lorne said calmly. "My people will light you up to kingdom come on a single word from me. Give me John Sheppard, give me any of his children and their mothers who are willing to cooperate with us, and you can live. Refuse, and this city is ours."  
  
Mara said, "No."  
  
It was the last thing she ever said.


	3. The City Where Everything's Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard, _Imagine a city where everything's pretty / And you sir, you rule the kingdom / You call the shots you can do what you want to / Oh just imagine the freedom _\- (Plain White T’s)__
> 
> __Through the eyes of a child._ _

Buffy knew something was wrong with Father, but she couldn’t begin to explain what it was. Father was King, was blessed by the Ancestors, could light the Throne in defense of the world. Father was kind. He held her hand and walked through the palace with her. He taught her to sing songs ( _Because you’re mine, I walk the line_ ) and to play ball games ( _Go long! Go long!_ ). He played with her whenever she asked - until it was time for her to go outside for exercise with the other girls and boys, and Father wasn’t allowed outside. He danced with her instead of Mother at balls, let her stand on his feet and kept her steady while they turned and turned and turned. He told her stories and jokes that she didn’t quite understand but that she learned to laugh at, and he loved her very much.

Every night before bed, he would call all of the children, all of Buffy’s brothers and sisters, and tell them strange tales, like about the princess who could speak to animals and danced with a prince at a ball, or the wizard boy who went to a special wizard school, or the children who found a land of talking animals in the back of a wardrobe. He told them stories of Buffy’s namesake, a brave warrioress who slew the evil undead. He told them stories of Natasha’s namesake, a sly and cunning spy, who always saved the world. He told them of Tony’s namesake, a brilliant scientist who flew in the sky.

But when it was just Buffy, Father would hold her close and whisper to her, about the City.

“Tell me more about the City, Father,” Buffy whispered, curled up next to him.

“Imagine a city, where everything’s pretty.”

Buffy thought the palace was pretty, couldn’t imagine anything prettier. “Are you not happy here, Father? You rule here.”

“I am King,” he said, “but in the City, I got to call the shots, I could do what I wanted to do.” He squeezed Buffy tightly and buried his face in her hair and breathed, “Imagine the freedom.”

Buffy wasn’t sure what freedom was, but she suspected it meant Father could leave the palace and look at the sky once in a while.

And then the Lanteans came, with their colorless uniforms and their crude weapons and demanded kindness where they had given none, and Buffy stood beside Father and watched him be brave and strong, stronger than she had ever seen him, stronger than even Mother. Father defeated the Lanteans, and they left.

But after they left, Father whispered to her, about Meredith’s namesake, and Emma’s namesake, and Dex’s namesake, and Eliza’s namesake, brave men and women who were kind, intelligent, and would save the universe.

“Father,” Buffy whispered, because she could feel his tears in her hair when he held her close, “tell me about the City.”

“Imagine a city,” he breathed, “where everything’s pretty.”

When the Lanteans came again, Buffy was shocked at their impudence, but then the palace shook, and Mother screamed, and Father gathered her into his arms and held her close and whispered _don’t look don’t look don’t look_ , and when the shaking stopped, Buffy and her brothers and sisters and their mothers were sitting in one of the jumpers. Only this jumper, unlike the jumpers in the lower regions of the palace, moved. It flew through the ring of the Ancestors, and on the other side was -

Another palace.

But Buffy saw the light in Father’s eyes and knew this was the City, where everything was pretty. The Lanteans in their drab uniforms took Father away, and when Buffy saw him again, when she was sitting in the infirmary while a kind lady named Jennifer gave her sweets and made sure she was all right, he was wearing the same uniform.

But he didn’t look drab and colorless. He looked handsome and strong and tall, and when he pressed a hand to the wall, Buffy felt the city sing through her blood.

_John, welcome home._   



End file.
